The Palace in the Nursery
At the family housing sector, Harry and Andrew finally arrived at Lolleta’s private residence.
Harry stood frozen in the doorway, staring in absolute disbelief at the unnecessary luxury displayed in what was supposed to be a simple child’s nursery.
The room was massive, filled with imported ivory furniture, soft velvet rugs, a gilded crib, and shelves lined with expensive designer toys that a toddler couldn’t even fully appreciate yet.
It looked more like a royal showroom than a place for a little girl to play.
Harry turned sharply, trying to confront Andrew about the ridiculous display.
But Andrew quickly strut away to the child’s living room.
Which was not any simpler than the other rooms.
“Andrew, what is all of this? She is a toddler, not a high-tier executive. This is completely ridiculous.”
Andrew didn’t even blink.
He just shrugged it off casually, adjusting Lolleta in his arms.
“The Mayfairs only deserve the best, Harry. My child will experience every single penny of my wealth to make up for the lost times she spent in caves and hiding because of your poor life choices.” Harry opened his mouth to counter him but then he sighed closing it again.
It was no use starting an argument with Andrew over what was already done, not that he would ever listen to him anyway.
“Dada, don’t leave Lolly alone!… Papa too!”
Lolleta suddenly whimpered, her small fingers wrapping tightly around the lapels of Andrew’s immaculate blazer.
Her big silver eyes darted between the two boys, her lower lip trembling as she sensed they were about to leave.
Harry’s heart twinged.
He stepped closer, putting on a soft, reassuring smile.
“Sweetheart, Daddy will be back soon. Look, when I come back, I will bring you something really nice, huh? How about that?”
“Yes, and I will even buy you your own car. Just be a nice baby girl for us today, okay?” Andrew fawned, his cold expression melting instantly into an unusually sweet smile as he pecked her chubby cheeks.
The whole expression he displayed was truly unlike him.
“Andrew!” Harry barked, shocked by the ridiculous promise.
“She’s three!”
“What?” Andrew countered, looking up with a sharp, defensive smirk.
“I told you, didn’t I? My daughter will have it all.”
Harry let out a heavy, defeated sigh, letting the matter drop.
But looking at the two of them, he felt a deep, twisting confusion in his stomach.
He truly couldn’t tell whether Andrew genuinely cared for Lolleta as his own child, or whether he was just using her to feed his incredibly loud, massive ego to get back at him.
“Harry, let us go,” Andrew said, his voice instantly snapping back into a cold, administrative tone.
“The leaders of this school cannot be late. I still have to show you around to your new duties.”
“Yes, yes, I know…” Harry muttered, his eyes glued to his daughter’s tearful face.
“But I just can’t leave Lolly crying, can I?”
“The nanny can handle it. Just come.”
Harry sighed deeply.
He reached up into Andrew’s arms, leaning forward to press a tender peck against Lolleta’s forehead.
He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her so tightly against his chest that it felt like his heart might melt right through his ribs.
He didn’t want to let go.
But after what felt like a painful eternity, Harry and Andrew eventually broke away, stepping out of the residence and leaving a crying Lolleta behind in the hands of the elite staff.
******
Meanwhile, back at Dormitory 402, Lucas was overseeing the arrival of the remaining luggage from the McGuire estate.
The room was quiet, save for the sound of one of Lolleta’s nannies organizing the child’s smaller bags in the hallway.
Who said a Mayfair heir would only have one nanny?
Lucas sat at the kitchen counter, lazily scrolling through his tablet, when he noticed one of Lolleta’s small, stuffed animal toys had a slightly thick, stiff seam along the back. Follow the newest chapters on novelping . com.
He frowned, setting his tablet down.
He picked up the toy and carefully inspected the stitch line.
And slipped deep inside the secret lining was a thin, folded piece of paper written in a frantic, hurried handwriting.
It was from Noelle, Harry’s sister.
Lucas scanned the short, coded text.
His breath hitched slightly.
The letter contained desperate details about the McGuire estate’s schedule, hidden entry points, and a terrifying warning about what Lloyd was planning to do to regain control of the family assets.
And she had wrote it all down for Harry.
Lucas stood perfectly still in the quiet kitchen.
His first instinct was to call Harry, but then he looked toward the corridor.
He knew the rules of the Campus.
He knew who truly owned the air they breathed in this suite.
Ten minutes later, Lucas stood in the central administrative hall, handing the folded paper directly to Andrew, who had stepped away from Harry for a brief moment before the morning assembly.
Andrew read the letter smoothly, his expression never changing.
Just then a cold, dark look flickered in his eyes before he folded the paper and slid it into his inner breast pocket.
“Did Harry see this?” Andrew asked quietly.
“No,” Lucas replied flatly.
“I found it inside the toy lining.”
“Good,” Andrew murmured, tapping his pocket.
“Keep completely quiet about all of this, Lucas. Let it be. Harry doesn’t need to find out about this letter. At least not yet, I have barely managed to bring him closer and he’s already too unstable about what happened in his house. He will go crazy all over again and probably do something stupid since it involves Noelle. I will keep this on his behalf.”
Lucas gave a single, professional nod.
“Understood.”
But deep down, Lucas failed to understand at all.
******
A short while later, the heavy doors of the central assembly hall opened.
The grand room was packed with hundreds of students, all whispering loudly as Andrew and Harry took their official places on the elevated student council stage.
Harry stood rigid, his dark sunglasses perfectly hiding his bruised eye, his uniform pristine, but his hand subtly pressing against his side to manage the pain.
The moment the morning announcements concluded and the students began dispersing toward their lecture halls, a sharp voice cut through the crowd near the stage steps.
“Andrew! What on earth is the meaning of this?!”
Sydney, a wealthy and influential high-tier student who had long proclaimed herself as one of Andrew’s official supporters, she marched up the steps.
Her face was flushed with anger, her eyes locked onto Harry with absolute disgust.
She had always been fiercely against Harry, especially when he was exiled to the lower sectors.
“Why is this trash standing on the stage with you?” Sydney demanded, pointing a manicured finger at Harry’s chest.
“He’s an exile! He’s a disgrace to the elites! And now I’m hearing rumors that you brought him into your suite? Andrew, tell me it’s a lie. You can’t honestly expect us to respect a permanent subordinate who got kicked out of his own family!”
The surrounding students stopped in their tracks, watching the drama unfold with bated breath.
Harry clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he prepared to fire back, but Andrew stepped in front of him before he could speak.
“Sydney,” Andrew said, his voice incredibly smooth but dropping into a dangerously cold register.
“You seem to be confused about your position in this academy. You do not demand answers from me. Harry McGuire is the officially recognized Vice President of the Mayfair Bloc. His presence was approved by me.”
Andrew stepped a bit closer, his dark eyes narrowing.
“And if any of you have a problem with his presence, you are welcome to file a formal complaint with the high council. But until then, you will bow your head when you pass him and if I see you disrespecting my Vice President again, I will personally review your family’s sector funding. Do I make myself clear?”
Sydney’s face went completely pale.
She looked at Andrew, then shot one last, furious, hateful glare at Harry before spinning on her heel and storming down the steps, her heels clicking angrily against the marble.
The sudden realization of just how much absolute, terrifying power Andrew had handed him settled deep into his skin.
He hated the King, but he couldn’t deny that the Mayfair shadow was the only thing keeping the wolves at bay.
******
As the day proceeded faster.
The moment the first lecture hour concluded, Andrew led Harry into the private, secluded student council President’s office behind the main hall.
The heavy oak door shut with a loud, final click, cutting off the whispers of the corridor.
The second the privacy lock engaged, the adrenaline completely left Harry’s system.
He let out a sharp, ragged gasp, his knees buckling instantly as he stumbled forward, his hand ripping his dark sunglasses off his face as he collapsed onto the leather sofa in the corner of the office.
He curled inward, his face turning pale as a violent, white-hot wave of pain ripped through his fractured ribs and torso.
The sheer stress of the morning, the emotional weight of leaving Lolleta, and the physical strain of walking the campus had completely broken him.
Andrew didn’t mock him this time.
His teasing attitude completely shifted into a cold seriousness.
He walked over to the door, throwing the deadbolt, and then moved swiftly across the room toward the couch.
“Sit up, Harry,” Andrew commanded, his voice flat and authoritative as he knelt on the floor in front of him.
“Get… get away from me,” Harry raspy-voiced, his breathing short and panicked as he clutched his side.
“I said sit up,” Andrew repeated, his strong hands gripping Harry’s shoulders and forcing him back against the cushions.
Without asking for permission, Andrew began unbuttoning Harry’s uniform blazer and shirt, pulling the fabric away to reveal the white medical bandages underneath.
The dressings were slightly stained with fresh blood where the cuts had reopened from his stiff movements.
Andrew reached into the desk drawer, pulling out a fresh roll of sterile gauze and antiseptic spray.
He began working with practiced, quiet efficiency, his fingers surprisingly gentle but firm as he reapplied the pressure to Harry’s side.
“Why are you doing this?” Harry hissed, his eyes filling with involuntary tears from the stinging antiseptic.
He looked down at Andrew’s focused face.
“Why do you keep pretending to help me when you just told me last night that you want me dead more than anything?”
Andrew didn’t look up, tightly wrapping the fresh gauze around Harry’s torso.
“That is because your death only belongs to me, Harry. I won’t let a few broken ribs or your family’s stupidity ruin my plans for you.”
“You’re a psychopath,” Harry muttered, his head falling back against the sofa as the pressure helped ease the sharp pain.
“You still hold a grudge over what happened five years ago. You keep that knife on display… you look at your leg and you blame me.”
Andrew paused for a fraction of a second, his grip tightening on the bandage just enough to make Harry wince.
He finally looked up, his dark eyes entirely devoid of warmth.
“I don’t just blame you, Harry. I live with it every single day,” Andrew whispered, his voice dangerously calm.
“Our friendship died the moment you chose to spread rumours about my problem I confidently confided in you and nearly ruined me and my family, you toppled over my trust. So yes, I want you broken. I want you dependent on me. But I will be the one to dictate when and how you pay your debt. Until then, you stay alive.”
“Andrew when will you ever realize the truth that I was not the one who wronged you?, I never spread the rumours about your grandfather sleeping with y—”
Andrew’s eyes sharply glared at him as his grip also tightened above Harry’s wounds and Harry scoffed out loud as he whimpered in pain.
“Don’t bring that up, Harry don’t you dare do that again!”
Harry nodded frantically.
“I’m sorry, it was my mistake….now will you please let go?”
Silence hovered for a moment as Andrew finished pinning the bandage, standing up and smoothing down his own uniform without a single hint of emotion left on his face.
He looked down at the battered boy on the couch.
“Button your shirt, Vice President. The next meeting starts in ten minutes. We should leave.”
Harry silently nodded.
The cold tense was dense within the room and he couldn’t handle it.
“Actually no—…come to think of it.”